


Burn Me Up

by 55vre55



Category: National Theatre, Treasure Island - Lavery, Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based off the National Theatre production, Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Female Jim Hawkins, Kidnapping, Manipulative Rat Bastard, NTL TI fandom, National Theatre - Freeform, On the Run, Road Trips, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, tiny niche fandom, you know what you're here for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/55vre55/pseuds/55vre55
Summary: “I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you. No mere human can stand in a fire and not be consumed.”–A.S. ByattThe car is quiet when Jim wakes, and for a moment she’s completely disoriented. They’re not at a brightly illuminated gas station or a neon-covered fast food restaurant. In fact, it seems like they’re in the middle of nowhere, with no lights at all out there in the darkness.
Relationships: Jim Hawkins/John Silver, Jim Hawkins/Long John Silver
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Burn Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is... a snippet from a rather dark modern AU based on the 2015 National Theatre production of Treasure Island with Arthur Darvill and Patsy Ferran. I have no excuse. You know who you are, target audience.
> 
> This literally qualifies as the bare minimum for not technically being Underage, hence why it is still tagged as such. It definitely includes an unhealthy relationship between a young girl and an older man. That being said, all sex contained herein is completely consensual.
> 
> Shoutout to courtneybgood for the beta read and general encouragement towards posting my first explicit fic!

The car is quiet when Jim wakes, and for a moment she’s completely disoriented.

(Silver usually rouses her whenever he stops for gas or food. At first because he didn’t trust her not to run, then because he wanted her to lift beer or snacks or whatever else while he distracted the cashier. He’s never left her alone in the car before, not that she knows of.)

Blinking blearily, she sits up to peer out the windshield, her blanket (his coat) slipping down as she does. They’re not at a brightly illuminated gas station or a neon-covered fast food restaurant. In fact, it seems like they’re in the middle of nowhere, with no lights at all out there in the darkness. Even the headlights are turned off.

The clock on the dashboard tells her it’s almost two in the morning, which means she’s been asleep for roughly three hours. She wonders where Silver is, why he stopped here of all places.

(He doesn’t like to sleep in the car if he can avoid it, preferring to stop at a seedy motel or just drive through the night if needed.)

Her door isn’t locked, which tells her he can’t be far.

She shivers as she steps out of the car into a slight breeze, and pulls his coat around her shoulders. The soft leather provides a much better barrier against the chill than her ratty, oversized, second-hand hoodie. She takes a few steps away from the car, the gravel alongside the road crunching softly under her sneakers. Despite the lack of any signs of civilization around them, she can see reasonably well, and she realizes after a moment that it’s the starlight coming from above.

Jim doesn’t think she’s ever seen so many stars, not even that night on the beach at school camp when he’d taught her about Polaris. Head tilted back, she spins for a moment, taking them all in, and finally notices the still form at the rear of the car.

Silver’s sitting on the trunk, leaning back against the back window, hands folded on his chest, gaze fixed overhead.

(For a moment, she’s not even sure he’s breathing.)

She crunches her way towards him and his head tilts ever so slightly in her direction, though the rest of him doesn’t move. Carefully, she climbs up to sit next to him, spreading his coat over their legs when she’s settled. He doesn’t react other than a slight shift of his prosthetic to make sure it’s tucked all the way under the fabric. The car is cold under her thighs, even through her jeans, and she hesitantly rests her head on his shoulder, trying to figure out what he’s looking at.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even acknowledge her for several long minutes. Jim feels sleep calling to her again and nestles a bit closer to him, wishing he would put his arm around her.

When he does finally speak, it’s so low she thinks she might have imagined it.

“Wanted to be an astronomer when I was a kid.”

She’s barely breathing, so intent on not missing it if he chooses to say something else. He hardly ever talks about his past, and certainly nothing from before he fell in with Flint and his crew. Without pulling away from him, she tilts her head up so she can see his profile against the blanket of stars behind him.

“I thought it sounded so cool, exploring the unknown, identifying everything – anything – up there, maybe even finding new worlds. Even if I couldn’t go there, I might still find something and get to name it and leave a mark that everyone would remember.”

He lapses back into silence, and Jim waits a minute, two, five, for him to speak again before gently taking his hand in hers.

She doesn’t know what to say, but he squeezes her hand, so that seems to be enough.

A shooting star darts across the sky overhead and her breath hitches. There’s no time for any sort of wish to cross her mind before it’s gone, faded back into the black.

They watch the stars together for a long time, long enough that Jim loses track. It’s so easy to lose track of time with him; she can’t even remember exactly how long they’ve been on the road (on the run) like this. Mulling it over, she thinks about the newspaper she’d seen the day before yesterday when they stopped for gas.

“It’s my birthday,” she says, realizing. Eighteen. Somehow, she always imagined it would feel more momentous.

Silver’s shoulder jostles her head slightly as he shrugs and says simply, “I know.”

She questions for a moment how he can possibly know, because she’s certainly never mentioned it. Then she remembers it’s probably in her student file at school.

(She wonders if he looked it up the day they met, needing to know right then how old she was, or if it took some time before he got curious enough to check. Either way, the thought makes her stomach clench.)

Eighteen.

A thought floats through her mind, gentle as the breeze on her face, and yet it has the power to send her heart into her mouth.

His main argument, his number one reason why nothing can happen between them, has evaporated. Does that mean…?

He takes a deep breath, as if to say something else, and she can’t bear it.

Mind and heart racing, she shoves his coat off their legs and moves swiftly to straddle him, bracing her hands either side of his head. Her mouth lands on his before he can say more than her name and she kisses him as fiercely as she knows how, using everything he’s taught her.

His lips move with hers, kissing her back, and she shudders with anticipation that finally, _finally_ , she might get everything she’s wanted from him for months.

(They’ve been torture: months of secret glances and stolen kisses and that one extremely memorable afternoon when he pulled her down onto his lap for a minute after class, leaving her squirming and wanting as she had to scramble to get to her next lesson on time. Sleeping in dodgy motel rooms with him, whether she’s banished to a sagging sofa or, on occasion, allowed to share the bed with him, has been nigh on unbearable.)

Jim’s so intent on kissing him, pressing as close as she can through their many layers, (she can’t be imagining the interested tent in the front of his jeans; there’s no way _that’s_ a product of her imagination…) that she doesn’t notice at first that his hands are _pushing_ rather than pulling on her hips.

Silver finally tears his mouth away and says, “Jim, stop,” in a sharp tone that makes her freeze.

(It’s so reminiscent of the tone he had used when he forced her into his car. That menacing voice still haunts her nightmares on occasion.)

She draws back, shrinking self-consciously into her hoodie, but can’t make her legs move to get off him. His hands are on her knees, just resting there, and they feel like they’re burning her.

“Don’t you want to?” and she feels ashamed of how small her voice sounds. This whole time, every interaction she’s had with him has told her that he wants her. To have him cut her off like that, tell her off so coldly…

For the first time in at least a week she wants to run away, not to get away from him, but rather to hide her mortification.

“Jim…” His sigh sounds so disappointed, and she can’t tell if it’s directed at her or not. “You know we can’t do all that. You’re too young, girl.”

Jim feels like she might cry, although whether out of frustration or embarrassment she’s not quite sure. “But… I’m eighteen now. I’m not— It’s not against the law, not if I want it.”

His smile is sad, almost pitying as he brushes her bangs out of her face and cups her cheek for a moment.

(He’s gotten very fond of doing that, ever since he made her cut her hair into bangs to help disguise her appearance. She’s not sure she likes the bangs, but she likes that they’ve led to him touching her more often.)

“One day don’t make a difference, Jim. I’d still get locked up for doing anything like that with you if they catch us. You don’t want me to get in trouble for that, now, do you?” He sounds worried and sad and sweet. Jim sniffs wetly.

“No, I don’t,” she says quietly, disappointment making her shoulders sag.

(Not for the first time, she wishes she wasn’t so young, so it wouldn’t be bad for her to be with him. If she were older, he wouldn’t have to worry or hold back.)

She moves to climb off him, maybe to go hide in the car, but his hands hold her knees down.

“Doesn’t mean you have to go anywhere,” Silver says quietly, soothingly. His hands drift up to her waist, under her sweatshirt, settling there with his fingers just tucked under her shirt. Each fingertip is a point of heat that feels like a brand. “Alright, Jim?”

Jim nods and holds his gaze as one of his hands moves over to the front of her jeans. Her breath catches in her throat as he _pops_ open the button, and she stops breathing altogether as he tantalizingly lowers her zip.

She lets out a long, shaky breath as that hand settles back onto her waist. He’s looking at her with something that could be concern. She ducks her head. The sweatshirt completely covers that he’s already got her halfway out of her jeans, and she feels goosebumps erupt up her arms at the thought.

His hand catches her chin, tilting her head back up until he can claim her lips in a gentle kiss. “I won’t leave you wanting,” he assures her softly, “not this time, girl. We can’t be together, not for real, but there’s other things we can do.”

She sighs into his mouth, winding her fingers into his hair, relief coursing through her. She’s so caught up in the kiss, in the elation of knowing that she finally gets to have him, even in some small way, that she doesn’t entirely notice his hand working its way into her jeans.

She jumps when she feels his fingers press against her through her underwear. A whine escapes her and she blushes, some of the embarrassment returning, but he kisses her burning cheeks.

“Relax, darlin’,” he sighs. “Make any noises you want to. We’re completely alone out here.”

That, plus another touch from his fingers, earns him another whine.

“Good girl,” he says, smiling encouragingly.

(She thinks she should be embarrassed when he calls her a _good girl_ , but it just makes her squirm with pleasure.)

Jim can _feel_ herself getting wet, so much faster than any time she’s touched herself while thinking about him. She shifts her hips a bit, trying to get him to touch her again, and when that doesn’t work, she lets out a breathless moan. “Silver, please…”

He laughs softly but obliges, and she jumps again when suddenly his fingers are right against her, having pushed her underwear out of the way.

“Easy, Jim, now,” he breathes, giving her a soft kiss. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” His fingers start circling her clit, sending sparks shooting up her spine, and she whines again. She wants so much more from him than just these gentle, teasing touches. Her hips twitch forward, trying to increase the pressure, but his free hand clamps down on her hip to hold her still. “So impatient,” he tuts, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

She cries out when he slips the first finger into her, sinking deep in one smooth motion. It’s shocking and strange, feeling so full so quickly, when she’s never touched herself that deeply before. His fingers are longer than hers, after all. Arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, she clings to him, trembling and trying to get used to the sensation. He makes soothing sounds into her ear and his free hand moves around to smooth over the small of her back. Slowly, she calms, though her breathing doesn’t get any less unsteady.

“Silver?” He hums distractedly at the question in her voice, likely more focused on how he’s now methodically thrusting his finger in and out of her, or how his thumb has found her clit again. She loses her train of thought, gasping and clenching around him at the dual points of stimulation.

He laughs softly again into her ear. “Yes, Jim?” It’s so formal, just like when he used to call on her in the middle of class, and she shudders.

She forces herself to focus, and remembers what she’d meant to say. “I love you,” she pants.

(She’s only said it to him a few times. He once told her to save it for special occasions; if this isn’t a special occasion, she has no idea what is.)

His hand stops moving, and she starts to protest the loss, but it’s cut off by the press of his lips against hers. He kisses her hard, hungrily, nipping at her lower lip after sucking it into his mouth. She kisses back eagerly, hands cupping his face, holding him close.

Slowly, his fingers resume their work, this time with two fingers pushing their way into her. She hisses a bit at the stretch, biting his lip in turn, and he shushes her again with a soft, “Relax…”

He finds the spot inside her that makes her see twice as many stars above. She cries out again, shaking in his hold. With two fingers inside her and his thumb teasing her clit once more, she’s not sure she’s going to last much longer.

“Please, I’m—” she pants into his ear, arms winding around his shoulders once more. “I need—” Her thoughts are incoherent, her tongue heavy with desire and anticipation.

“What do you need, girl?” he asks softly. His voice is so gentle compared to the unrelenting pressure of his fingers.

She moans in response, her hips twitching both into and away from his touch as she struggles between wanting more and feeling like it’s too much at the same time. “Please,” is all she finally manages to gasp.

“Go on, darlin’, let go,” he breathes, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

So she does.

When Jim comes back to herself, she’s slumped against his chest with his arms wrapped around her back. He’s not saying anything, but one of his hands is rubbing slow circles on her back, clearly waiting for her to recover. She shifts a bit, making a slight noise at how damp and sticky her underwear feels now, and his hold loosens enough that she can sit up.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly, smiling at her, and she returns it.

“Amazing,” she breathes, leaning forward to taste his smile. She has to break out of the kiss to yawn, and he sighs.

“Should’ve known you’d be the type to go straight to sleep, after,” he says, mostly to himself, shaking his head. Jim tries to protest, but is interrupted by another yawn and just ends up frowning grumpily.

“Come on, girl, we should keep moving,” he says, sitting up. They manage to untangle themselves and hop down from the back of the car. Jim wobbles on shaky legs and Silver catches her around the waist with a laugh of, “Whoa, I’m supposed to be the unsteady one around here, girl.”

Her hand accidentally brushes the front of his jeans and he hisses, grabbing her wrist and pulling it away. She can tell he’s still hard, and she opens her mouth to offer to help him with it. He shushes her with a finger on her lips. “Don’t worry about it, Jim.” His voice is warm, but his eyes tell her not to argue with him.

He helps her back to her seat, spreading his coat over her legs again.

She sleepily tries to keep a hold on his arm, but finally lets go when he smooths his other hand over her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face. He only hesitates for a moment before he bends down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

With his passenger safely stowed, Silver rounds the back of the car, pausing for a minute to look back up at the stars. He rubs his hands over his face, thinking hard, decision still unmade in spite of what just happened. He briefly weighs whether or not he ought to feel guilty for stopping. He figured she would wake up, after all.

(His fingers still smell of her.)

Shaking his head ruefully, he stumps back to the driver’s seat. They’ve still got a long way to go, and they won’t get there any faster with him dwelling on _what ifs_.


End file.
